Authors: Jaci J
London
“London?”
“He was gonna shoot me!” I yell.
“He was aiming for you, yes, but I think you got him first.” Oh God.
The gun wielding man’s words replay in my head and I can’t work them out. “He’s the enemy, little girl. Ask him what he is. ASK HIM!”
“He had to be shot, London.” Dante’s words bounce around in my head with the man’s parting ones. I’ve never shot at anyone before.
“I-
I
shot him,” my voice rises to a pitch only dogs can hear and my stomach does a barrel roll straight to my ass.
“You did and I couldn’t be prouder,” Dante beams. Oh god. Oh god. That wasn’t nearly as cool as I always thought it would be. Of course he’s proud. He’s Mr. Bang Bang Shoot ‘Em Up with all his guns and shit.
“I’m serious, Dante.”
Grabbing my chin, he tips my face up to his. “I am too. You did what you had to do.” I went back for that gun. In my gut I knew I’d need it so I pocketed it. I knew I’d need it and I was right. I was right, but I’m not happy about it.
“What if he dies? What if I killed him?” I’m going to jail, and then I’m going to hell with my father.
“You didn’t,” He assures me.
“How do you know?”
“Do you trust me?” Yes, but not really.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t kill him, London, so calm down. He’ll be fine.” Easy for him to say, he wasn’t shot.
~~~~~~
The car roars down the cobbled and cracked street and my mind wanders down a dark, desolate path. The sneaking, the lying, the drugs, the guns, the crazy men, and all this mess has my mind running wild. What am I doing with this man? I don’t even know him.
Dante looks to be in deep thought so I leave him be when he runs a stop sign. We fly right past the docks and right on down the road. “Where are we going?”
“Home.” He tells the windshield. Home?
“Tonight?”
“Yes. It’s not safe here anymore.” He’s quiet and contemplating something. “London?” The hesitation in my name leaves an unsettled worry in my stomach.
“Hmm?” Slowing, Dante veers to the side of the road and my unsettled stomach hits my feet.
“What does your father want? I want a straight answer.” I knew it was only a matter of time. Twisting in his seat he drums his fingers in the steering wheel, waiting. Taking a deep breath, I dive right into my life story.
“It’s simple, but I don’t know what it is you’re looking for.” I start.
“I want to hear it all.”
“My mother met my father when they were young. They fell in love and my grandfather was against it. He hated my father from the very beginning with every fiber of his being.” It’s the truth. He still hates him passionately. “At the time, my grandfather was building his business and neither my father nor my mother cared until it started to grow into something promising and worthwhile. That’s when my father started paying attention. Well, my mother got pregnant, and it wasn’t an accident. My father wanted a child for a reason―insurance. He knew how my grandfather felt about him and knew he would never have a chance to get his hands on something that was starting to turn out millions of dollars. I was the piece to his fucked up puzzle. Greed is what turned him into the man he became, but I can only imagine what it’s done to him today. My mother died and the business my grandfather built was supposed to be left to her, but after she died, it was then to be handed to me when my grandfather believed I was ready to take over. She left everything she had to me. She didn’t leave my father a single cent. My grandparent’s raised me since my father was always in and out of jail.” And that’s when my absent, uncaring father started taking a real notice in me.
“My father felt entitled. He figured I was his child and what was mine was rightfully his. He only wants me for what he thinks he can get. So far he hasn’t been successful, but he’s getting better and more determined the older my grandfather gets. All of this mess is over a business my father has absolutely no right to. All this shit is because he’s a self-centered piece of shit. I hate that I have to live in this family drama where there should be none. My father can’t just take it. I sure as fuck don’t plan to hand it over, either. I’m not giving it up. Grandfather worked day and night, putting blood, sweat, and tears into this company and I’ll be damned if I willingly give it up to anyone, especially my greedy father.”
For the longest time Dante doesn’t say anything. The car is dark and the air is stale with the humid night air. “Say something,” I urge.
“Give it up.” he suggests like it’s the easiest solution in the world.
“No, I can’t … I won’t! It means so much to my grandfather and me.”
“It’s not that hard. Nothing is worth your life, London.”
“But it is. It’s my grandfather’s life, his legacy. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s the reason I’ve worked so hard in school and sacrificed all these years to learn how to run it. He asked this of me, and I did it. I’ve worked so hard for it. I’ve made it my life for him because he’s done everything for me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“You’re too young and stupid to know what you really want.” What the fuck? Did he just call me stupid? I fight the hatful comments working their way out of me. I’m too tired, and too
stupid
to do this.
“Just take me home. I’m tired of dealing with your fucked up personalities. You really make me sick.” Dante starts to drive and doesn’t speak to me again.
~~~~~~
Sitting on the plane, I decide I’m not letting his remark about me being stupid get to me. I know I’m not, so he can fuck off. Besides, I need to ask the question that’s eating me alive. “That man. He told me to ask you what you are? Why?” He doesn’t say anything. My question doesn’t even touch his unbreakable mask. “Why would he say that?”
“People say crazy shit when they’re going to die.” Lie. He said this before anything happened.
“I don’t think that’s why he said it.” Looking back down at his tablet, he shuts me out. “Dante?”
“What do you want me to say, London? He’s a fucking idiot working for your father. He’ll say whatever he has to so he can win you over.”
“Buy why that?” My anger is flaring. I’m not in the mood for his lies right now. I’m so deep in lies I can’t swim my way out. Standing up to move away from him, his arm snakes out and grabs onto me.
Pulling me into his lap he glares at me. “Believe in
me
. Believe the shit
I
tell you. His job was to get into your head and he did. Don’t ever fucking doubt me, London. No one cares about you like I do. No one will ever protect you like I do. Trust only me.”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“I know, but I wanna show you that I’m not always one. It’s time to fuck you, baby. Take your clothes off.” And that’s all I get. Fuck.
One Month Later …
London
Mr. Too Busy for London is testing my patience this evening. Business has kept him away and distracted. Matt and I agreed on dinner and drinks for part of the evening, but the rest of my night was supposed to be spent with him.
I got my dinner and drinks with Matt, but so far, no word from Dante. All week he’s been unattainable. Dante’s been in a mood and it happens to be a mood I’m not particularly fond of. And I swear to God, if I have to watch him slam his cell phone down one more time I’m gonna shove it up his ass. His mood has been rubbing off on me.
“I’ll be right over there,” I nod in the direction of the dance floor.
“You’ve got a death wish. Good luck, boo.” Matt laughs.
The light is dim as I wade through the smoke and bodies. Navigating the tables and chairs scattered about, my heels stick to the dingy parquet floor. The low deep base of a voiceless song croons from speakers hung from the corners of the room. Pushing past a group of couples, I find my target.
Couples cuddle in dimly lit corners in this small shit hole. Groups of men sit around yelling over card games, jeering and cheering at one another. Waitresses with subpar balancing skills pass out drinks on shaky heels with even shakier hands. A few scantily clad woman dance around a makeshift dance floor while men look on, drooling like dogs wanting a bone.
Looking over my shoulder at Matt, he shakes his head, laughing. He loves trouble so it’s a good thing he came here with me. Twisting my neck a little further, I catch Dante’s eyes. He’s watching like I knew he would be. He’s left me little choice. This was my last resort to ruffle his feathers and get his attention. I need something from him before I explode.
Surrounded by a group of men, they beg for his attention, but his attention is finally elsewhere. Smiling to myself, I turn back to my mission.
He’s five-ten, average height and looks, but my target merely serves a purpose. Invading his personal space, I push my way right up next to him, letting my tit brush his arm. A group of guys standing by him look at me like I’m a mystical unicorn and the girl hanging off of his shoulder doesn’t look like we’ll ever be friends with her severe pout. “Dance with me.” I tell him, ignoring his companions.
It’s not the dance, but the game I enjoy the most. Do I like the stranger’s hands rubbing up my thighs up to my hips? No. Do enjoy the scorching gaze of a sexy psycho currently eye fucking me from across the room. Hell yes. Dante’s eyes blaze with possessive heat. Shoulders tense, leaning forward in his chair, he stares at
me
. Happy with this, I grind my ass against the man’s ever growing hard-on. It’s unpleasant, but I have something to prove tonight.
Dancing to my own beat, I glide my hips from side to side. One second my guy’s there and the next I hear, “That was a lovely show,
cara
,” He says against my skin. He did quite well. He lasted five minutes, maybe a few more before he broke down and took over as my dance partner.
“Did you like it?”
“You fucking know I did, you little fucking tease.”
“Should I keep going then?”
“You’re the queen of idle threats, London.”
Pulling away, I leave Dante standing in the middle of the dance floor watching me walk away.
~~~~~~
It’s been dinners in, movies on the couch, cuddling in bed and gazing at the skyline. I go to bed with Dante, we shower together, and he works in his office while I lounge on the couch. I spend my days hanging around the pool, lunching and shopping with Matt, and I read. Grandfather will be back soon so I’m taking full advantage of the days I have left before I get to work.
We’ve fallen into perfectly domesticated compatibility. We spend most of our time together. Dante goes to work and I enjoy the last few weeks of vacation before I too start working. This new time together has been eye opening, challenging, and comfortable.
I was swiftly and immediately moved in the moment my feet touched American soil. It’s been thirty days. Some long, and some not long enough. We fight hard and dirty and we make up rough and heatedly. Our relationship is going how I assumed anyone’s would who’s dating someone like Dante; it’s going exactly how he deems it.
He may call the shots, but he lets me run the show. I can do no wrong. It’s amazing most of the time, but it’s also frustrating. No matter how much I fight or how hard I push, I can’t break that tough as nails resolve of his. Some days I just wanna break him, if only just a little, but Dante never seems to be anything but poised, calm, and collected on the outside.
It’s what’s on the inside that’s terrifying and thrilling. It’s the vindictive, cruel man in there lurking around. The ruthless man he masks with all his easy indifference that scares me. It’s the easy going and nice façade everyone sees and falls in love with that hides that psycho so well, but a disturbing part of me has fallen for that man too. That evil has swept me off of me feet, wrapped me up in love, and gives me everything I could ever need or want.
Everyday he wears a suit and everyday I think he looks even better in one. Today it’ll be all black. “You’re staring at me, London.” He says, shuffling through the mail.
“You do it too. Tit for tat.” I point out.
“I know, and when I do it it’s because I’m thinking of fucking you. Do you wanna fuck me?” He asks in a sexy tone.
“Maybe.”
“I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the kitchen table and give you a repeat of last night, but unfortunately, I have a meeting this morning. But make no mistake, when I get home from work, I want you naked, wet, and waiting.” No arguments here.
I help him straighten his tie, the tie he asked me to pick for him this morning. He screws with his watch and musses up his hair while he waits for Cam. He’s nervous and I don’t know why. “What’s wrong?”
Looking over his shoulder, he frowns, “Nothing.” He’s lying to me. Over time, I’ve learned to pick up on his tells. He twists that watch when he’s hiding truths. His eyes harden and his brow wrinkles when he’s spewing lies.
“Are you sure?” I ask, but it’s clear he’s not going to tell me anything.
“Yes.” Another lie. He’s not sure. Actually, he’s anything but sure.